Page 47 of Flight of the Omega

“That’s right, just breathe through it.”

JP was breathing—very loudly. He kept grinding his teeth. He’d clench, then grind, then suddenly release his jaw and gasp. “Holy hell,” he panted, “that hurts.”

“You’re almost there,” Dr. Vogel coaxed gently. “Just a couple more pushes and this one will be out.”

JP bore down again, grunting as he did so. He stopped, shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said, “I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can,” the vet said. “You’re doing it right now. You’re doing great.”

“I—nngh.” Jack watched JP’s knuckles turn white as he wrenched on one of the blankets.

“Almost. Just give me one more big push.”

“I can’t,” JP wheezed.

“You can. I know you can.”

JP inhaled a couple more times, then clenched up again. He gasped and released, and Dr. Vogel had a shiny blue egg in her hands. “There we go!” she said. “First one done.”

JP wheezed. He looked exhausted. Jack glanced at the egg, then at JP. “How many more do you think he has to go?” he asked.

JP shook his head. “No,” he panted. “Don’t wanna think about that.”

Dr. Vogel wiped down the egg with hot water, then wrapped it in a cloth. She glanced up at Jack. “Unless you wanna look after them, papa bird?”

Jack flushed. “I can’t sit,” he said.

“Sure ya can,” Dr. Vogel said. She rapped her knuckles on the side of the shell. JP squawked at her, but she ignored him. “These are meant for an eight-, nine-foot-tall, two-hundred-pound bird to sit on top of them. They can handle you.”

Jack looked at JP. “I can’t sit,” the omega said. “I probably have, like, five more of these to deliver.”

Jack sighed. “All right,” he murmured.

“Just let me get a couple measurements,” Amanda said. She took a tape measure to the egg, then jotted down the numbers. She glanced at JP, who was back to tensing his hands and releasing them rhythmically. She finished up by weighing the egg; Jack grimaced when he realized it clocked in at almost four pounds.

She handed it to him, and he cradled it gently. “You think this one has a chick?” he asked.

“Can’t be sure,” she said. “Generally, yes, the eggs with chicks are delivered first, so they’re closer to the center of the nest, but the duds sometimes come out first so predators can’t tell. If they always knew the chicks were first, they’d raid the nest the first day of laying or just take the eggs from the center of the nest.”

Jack glanced down at the egg. It was a pretty color. He glanced up at JP. “Pretty bird lays pretty eggs,” he said, and JP flushed.

“Don’t really care how pretty they are,” JP panted, then groaned as he bore down. “Just want ’em out of me.”

“You might get that wish sooner than you think,” Dr. Vogel said. “Here comes number two. You ready to push for me?”

“Not really,” JP said, then clenched up, grunting with pain.

Dawn came late, barely noticeable because of the storm howling outside. Jack nestled the two eggs in their makeshift bed when he had to go out to get more firewood around seven. By ten, JP had delivered a third egg.

The omega had laid himself down in the nest, clearly exhausted from his ordeal but unable to escape the pain that now gripped him.

The fourth egg didn’t arrive until after dinner, and JP swore a blue streak until it finally emerged. The fifth egg appeared around nine. JP was on his back then, legs splayed, moaning miserably.

Nobody got any sleep, not with that racket. JP sobbed before he delivered egg number six just before midnight.

Jack wanted it to be over too. Six eggs was six too many, in his opinion, but the doctor didn’t think JP was done yet, no matter how much the omega begged for it to be over.

She wasn’t wrong either; JP laid a seventh egg in the wee hours of the morning, just before the storm blew itself out.